


HOW I LEARNED MY LESSON

by montmorency



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:07:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montmorency/pseuds/montmorency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy fic, low on angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Lambliffbigbang fic. Lots of other fics have either been posted or will be. Go read 'em all!
> 
> http://lambliffbigbang.livejournal.com/

If Tommy had a dollar for every idiot he’d talked to in the last three months, he could quit this asswipe job and buy a new guitar.

Seriously, who can’t understand satellite TV? Half the population of the San Fernando Valley, if his experience answering panicked calls from Bruins fans ten seconds before the big game starts is anything to go by. He’s heard from a guy who thought that the dish on his house was beaming instructions from Captain Kirk into his brain; from a woman who was positive she should get a discount because she had satellite TV _and_ a cell phone, never mind that they were from different companies; from another guy who was bitching because his crack addict son had jacked both of his televisions; and from hordes of idiots who thought they were calling the pizza place on Magnolia. It’s one digit away from the call center’s local number. When he’s bored, Tommy will take their orders (“Veggie Supreme, thin crust, okay, we’ll be there in twenty minutes”) and hang up. It’s kind of mean, but entertainment has to be found where it can in this prison-like space packed with dozens of call-center “associates.” Can’t even surf the net because all the fun stuff is blocked.

So when his computer starts acting up, it’s entertaining instead of frustrating. His boss does not see eye-to-eye on this matter and promises that the on-call computer tech company will send someone shortly.

The nice thing about a dumb job like this is that there’s nothing else they can make you do if your equipment isn’t functioning and there isn’t another workstation free. Tommy twiddles a pencil and makes up riffs in his head, popping M&Ms into his mouth now and then. He visits Steve on the other side of the big room and tries to distract him into dropping an F-bomb while on the phone with a customer.

That fun lasts maybe forty-five minutes before The Boss shimmies around a corner and beckons him back to his station. The Boss side-eyes his hair for a moment. The guy just can’t get to the point where he can look beyond Tommy’s black and white dye job and lilac eye shadow. “Tell the geek what’s wrong with your computer,” The Boss says before stalking off.

The geek is crawling around under the workstation on hands and knees, ass out. It’s not a bad ass, given that it’s attached to a guy. There’s a hint of butt crack and Tommy’s about to make a rude comment when the geek backs out and sits back on his heels, brushing his hands off on his jeans.

“Hi, I’m Adam. Is this your computer?” the guy asks.

Tommy blinks. Adam is pretty good-looking and stylish for a computer guy. His fingernails are painted black and his black hair has blue streaks. Actually, he’s really gorgeous. Tommy likes to think he is one of those evolved straight men who are not afraid to admit that other men can be attractive. Even hot. Most of Tommy’s friends would disagree with him. They don’t think that Tommy plus sixpack of PBR plus slasher movie plus inability to keep his pants over his undies equals advanced culture and civilization. They are wrong, of course: Tommy is highly evolved in his own mind. Still, Adam. This guy is really doing it for him, somehow. It’s like the guy is a succubus in disguise, practically poisoning the air with sex pheromones.

“Yeah,” Tommy says, feigning nonchalance. “M&M?” he adds, remembering his manners and holding out the half-empty bag.

Adam rises smoothly. “No thanks,” he answers, although he looks wistful. He sets a used guitar pick and three dusty M&Ms on the desktop. He’s tall and has wide shoulders. Tommy’s immediately envious.

“Why were you under there?” he asks stupidly, a bit embarrassed about the stray M&Ms. He palms the guitar pick as subtly as he can and slips it into his pocket.

“We like to check out the obvious stuff first.” Adam sits in Tommy’s chair and starts tapping away on the computer keyboard. “What kind of trouble is it giving you?”

Tommy knows fuck-all about computers. “Um, I don’t know, I would click that little _submit_ thingy and it would think and think and then nothing would happen.”

“Did you try turning it off and turning it back on again?”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Duh.” He knows that much, at least. He hoists his ass on the workstation’s desktop and watches Adam as the guy blithely pecks away at the keyboard, blue eyes focused on the screen. Adam is even smiling slightly.

What the fuck is there to smile about when it comes to computers?

Tommy picks at his nail polish. “You don’t look like the usual computer geek,” he says.

“You don’t look like the usual call center associate,” Adam answers brightly, giving him a quick glance and grin.

“I’m going places,” says Tommy. “Places other than here.”

The girl in the next cubicle rolls her chair back and pokes her head into Tommy’s cubicle. “We’re all going places, Ratliff,” she says. “You’re not the only one wasting their talent in this shithole.”

“Mind your own business, Chelsea Handler,” Tommy responds, casually flipping her off.

“Fuck you, bitch,” she says, ratcheting her chair back out of sight behind the cubicle wall.

Adam taps Tommy’s knee and points at the screen. Tommy peers at it. Looks like Adam typed something: _not a nice place to work?_ Tommy grins. “She’s my friend,” he says, flipping an M &M over the cubicle wall. It gets slam-dunked back onto Tommy’s head within seconds, bouncing to the floor and rolling underneath the desk.

Adam raises one eyebrow.

“Don’t judge,” Tommy says.

A tiny smile lifts one corner of Adam’s mouth. It’s cute. Adam types and mouses like a madman for a long while. “There,” he says. “It was the _wrejkewl_ and it got all _spifid fang_ so then I _solka edopulde reak gex os oidfader wagtilk_ and _ext narfidegaosffowed haksi oon jogheax fubar._ ”

At any rate that’s what it sounds like to Tommy. “So you fixed it?” he asks.

“Yep. All good now.” Adam swings around in the chair. “You didn’t tell me what your talent is.”

Tommy considers Adam from the advantage of height thanks to his perch on the desktop. This guy is getting too personal, or is he?

The voice from over the wall sing-songs, “He plays ukulele in a band of misfit circus clowns.”

Tommy snickers.

“Is Chelsea Handler her actual name?” Adam asks.

“No, it’s Kelsey Hamner but she hates it even more when I call her M.C.”

Kelsey’s voice floats over the wall: “I heard that, asshole.”

Tommy smirks. “She’s jealous because I won’t go out with her.”

Kelsey’s head appears around the edge of the cubicle again. “Dude, no self-respecting girl would go out with you.”

Adam’s eyes sparkle with humor. “Is she right?”

Tommy shakes his head. “Plenty of girls go out with me.”

Kelsey snorts. “Sure, until they find out your idea of a movie date is _Saw VII_ followed by Taco Hell.”

Tommy’s about to snap out another _bon mot_ when The Boss rounds the corner of the line of cubicles and slithers up to them way faster than a mere human being should be able to move.

“Done?” he barks at Adam.

“Yes, sir,” Adam says, standing.

“It works now?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Can Tommy get back to work?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Sign here.” He thrusts a clipboard at Adam and Adam signs at the X. “We’ll call if we need Computer Qwik Fixx again.”

It’s a dismissal. Adam nods and reaches down for his backpack. Marginally satisfied, The Boss slinks off.

“All yours,” Adam says to Tommy, indicating the computer. “Tommy,” he adds.

Tommy hops off the desk. With a final cute smile, Adam is gone. Tommy plops into his chair. It’s still warm from Adam’s butt. Weird how that thought doesn’t bother him right now. He wheels back and over to peek into Kelsey’s area. “Hey, babe, dinner and a movie tonight?”

Kelsey smacks his head lightly. “He was hitting on you, you realize that, right?”

“So?”

“He’s gorgeous. You should consider switching teams, considering the shit luck you have with the female of the species.”

Tommy sticks his tongue out at her and wheels back to his own computer. Tommy knows that Adam was flirting with him. He isn’t so sure how he feels about it. It’s kind of flattering when anyone finds you appealing. Adam’s definitely hot – for a guy. Tommy can admit that to himself. But he’s never been interested in guys… _that way_.

And by the way? Girls do so love Tommy, they probably fight over him out of his sight. He’s pretty sure. Or kind of sure. That is, he hopes so.

He blows out a breath he’s been holding without realizing it, dons the headset and signals the switchboard that he’s ready to be put back in the rotation.

 

\+ + +

 

Hot or not, Adam’s out of his life. Tommy forgets about him. Mike snagged them a gig at the Hideaway Bar & Grille on a Sunday evening a couple of weeks later, so that’s awesome even if they’re on the schedule at 7:30 p.m. Which sucks, getting followed onstage by a band of junior high kids calling themselves The Justin Bieber Experience. At the age of twenty-five, Tommy figures he’s put in a lot of dues already; how much more dues-paying does he have to go through? He doesn’t ask a lot of the universe, just the ability to make enough money at music so he can afford the shitty apartment he shares with two other guys, and maybe not to have to precede a band of junior high children at a gig.

Mike tunes up his bass, leans over to Tommy and whispers to warn him that a well-known executive from 69Entertainment is in the crowd. Crowd might be generous. There’s fewer than two dozen people but that’s not too awful for the early time slot.

Tommy casually turns, still tuning, and scans the darkened room as surreptitiously as possible. Sure enough there’s Simon Cowell, the exec with the horrible taste in haircuts and music. Tommy turns his back to the room again. “What’s he doing here, for fuck’s sake?” he asks quietly.

“Probably heard about the tweensters.”

Oh fuck. Well, Simon “Hairdo” Cowell isn’t going to harsh Tommy’s mellow so the show goes fine even if they’re only allotted twenty-five minutes. Playing live always gets him high. Mike and Isaac and Tommy play great together and the new singer, Ravi, is more or less insane but in a good way, so long as he keeps that swinging mic and his grabby hands to himself.

Which he doesn’t. Tommy has to shove him off several times in their short set. Where did Isaac find this guy? He seems 100% dead set on locking lips with Tommy, and while Tommy generally finds it funny to see a couple of straight boys kissing onstage, he barely knows this guy or what diseases he might have. Tommy prefers to trade spit with people he knows a bit better. Not to mention female.

During a lull while Mike and Ravi are arguing over the next song, Tommy leans over the drum kit and hisses at Isaac, “Where’d you find this guy?”

Isaac grins. “He’s cool, huh?”

“Fucking octopus, he needs a tambourine or something to keep his hands busy.”

“You love it,” Isaac snickers, waving a drumstick like a blackboard pointer.

“I really don’t,” Tommy disagrees, and then Ravi is breathing down his neck and saying, “Killer’s next.”

“Dude,” Tommy says, shoving one shoulder up, but Ravi’s already spun away and Isaac pounds the opening drum salvo with a giant-ass grin on his mug. Tommy scowls at him but he doesn’t miss his cue on lead. He really likes this song and loves getting a chance to play it live.

When they’re done there are a few more people in the audience and they get polite applause, which is better than the heckling they sometimes get. There’s no room for anything but packing up their gear right there; while Tommy’s zipping up his gig bag, Ravi gets in his face. “Let’s go for drinks.”

Yikes. “No thanks,” Tommy says. “Early night in, I’m exhausted.”

“You don’t look that tired.”

“Look, I’m flattered but I’m just not gay.”

Ravi gives him a look that says _no way Jose_.

What is it with gay men being interested in him?

“Didya give it a try?” Ravi asks.

“Excuse me?” Tommy’s eyes go very wide. “You think you can _convert_ me or something?”

Ravi wriggles both eyebrows. He must think it’s sexy. “How can you know for sure if you never try?”

Tommy’s sure as fuck not planning to try gay sex with Ravi. He’s not planning on getting dick up his ass _ever_. This is the most fucking uncomfortable conversation and he’s still coiling the guitar cable. He coils faster.

“Hey, Ravi,” Isaac yells, offering rescue from an unexpected direction, “help me with the drums, ya bastard! I can’t carry them all just by my lonesome.”

For a moment, Tommy’s afraid that Ravi might try to kiss him goodbye, but the moment passes and Ravi goes off to help Isaac. Close one, that.

“Later,” Tommy says to them, gig bag over his shoulder. On the way out through the seating area, the last thing Tommy expects is to find Adam the computer geek at a back table. How even the fuck? Adam definitely sees him, smiles in invitation.

Tommy shoves his way through tables and chairs to Adam. “What are you doing here?”

Adam puts up both hands. “Whoa, I wanted to hear you play.”

Tommy processes things in his mind. How would Adam know anything about him? Did he hack into the fancy insides of the computer and find out all about Tommy in those few minutes at the call center? And what the fuck – stalking? After getting chased around the tiny stage by Ravi for nearly half an hour, Tommy’s in a _mood_.

“How did you even know I’m here?” Tommy huffs. “Are you fucking _stalking me_?”

“Of course not.”

Tommy frowns, then turns and walks out briskly. Fuck this. So weird.

Adam catches up with him half a block from his car. Tommy doesn’t stop walking so Adam walks backwards in front of him. “They said your name, Tommy Ratliff, right?”

“Yeah and who told you I’m in a band? Playing tonight? Here?” Tommy stops at his car. No point in trying to keep his car a secret from this geek who probably can run Tommy’s plates online and figure out he’s got four speeding tickets. He unlocks the trunk. He feels stupid using the actual key to open it but he can’t afford a car that’s new enough to have one of those locks that chirp and open automatically.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to seem like a creep,” Adam is saying. “One look at you and anyone would know you play in a rock band, come on. I didn’t buy that ukulele thing for a second! Then your name came up on MySpace for the band and everything was right there in the open.”

Tommy’s shoulders sag. The gig bag almost slides off. He hitches it back up. “So you wanted to – what? – check out our band?”

“I just wanted to see you again.” Adam looks like a puppy, eager to please, hoping for the best. “It’s a good thing to have people in the audience, right?”

Tommy slides the bag off his shoulder and lays it carefully in the trunk. He slams the trunk lid and folds his arms. “It’s a little freaky, is all.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam says, sounding sincerely contrite. “Just, it was fun talking with you the other day and everything.”

Tommy chews on his lower lip. Why does this guy not understand? Kelsey definitely didn’t need to explain to Tommy that Adam was flirting with him. Tommy gets a lot of that from men. It’s not that he’s trying to look like a twink. He thinks of himself more as rock-and-roll, if not actually badass. Throwback punk attitude, grunge-garage-band fan, a hint of O.C. surf punk if he’s being honest. Lilac eye shadow notwithstanding, of course.

“Adam, I’m not gay,” he settles for saying as nicely as he can.

Adam looks offended. “Not all my friends are gay. I’m allowed to have straight friends.”

“That’s not how I meant it.”

“How, then?”

Tommy thinks. He hates having to express himself in full sentences or to analyze his own thoughts and behavior in front of strangers.

“Okay, I can take a hint,” Adam says. He turns abruptly.

Tommy watches as Adam walks away down the sidewalk, backlit by streetlamps. He feels like a shit and he’s not quite certain why. He didn’t ask for the attention, he was innocently at work and everything. If a girl geek had fixed his computer and then followed him around, would he have reacted the same way or would he be flattered? Would he have flirted with her? Maybe tried asking her out?

He decides he’s not being fair to Adam, who seems to want only to be friends. He decides his mood is so shitty thanks entirely to having to fend off Ravi. It’s not like Tommy has so many friends that another would hurt, and if Adam wants to be friends, Tommy can at least give him a chance. The guy is funny and cool, after all, even if he _is_ a computer geek.

He grimaces to himself, then gets in the car and cranks it into action and leaves the parking space in a squeal of under-inflated tires. The clutch has been giving him trouble, too, so the car lurches up to the stop sign at the next intersection as Tommy reaches over to roll down the passenger window.

“Hey, Adam!” he says. Adam, still walking, looks to his left, surprised.

“I’m a jackass,” Tommy says. “You wanna go for a drink or something? Make it up to you?”

Hesitantly, Adam comes over to the car and leans down to look in the passenger window. “No, I get it, it was creepy behavior.”

“No way, it’s my bad, I was being a total jerk."

The car behind honks.

“So you wanna?”

Adam shifts feet, hands digging into his jacket pockets.

The car honks again. Tommy turns and sticks his head out the driver’s side and yells, “Shut up!” He turns back to Adam. “So, yeah? Get in?”

Adam shrugs and hitches one shoulder back towards the place they just left. “We could go back to the restaurant, it’s still early and I think they serve food.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Tommy warns.

The car behind honks again and the driver is flipping Tommy off with both hands. Adam makes a quick decision and gets in Tommy’s car. Tommy hits the gas almost before the door is shut, laying rubber down Kagel Canyon.

He drives to the Denny’s off the 210 because Tommy doesn’t eat at fancy restaurants no matter what. It’s nice to discover that Adam is totally happy to eat at Denny’s. He doesn’t complain or anything; there’s no diva in his attitude. Over burgers and fries, Tommy learns that Adam is bored of being a tech geek and what he really wants to do is sing on Broadway in New York. He’s already in the chorus of the local run of _Wicked_.

“You must have no free time,” Tommy says. “Day job plus that?”

“It’s the same for you,” Adam says.

“Pretty sure your gig is steadier than mine.”

Adam shrugs. “It’s just the chorus. I could phone it in.”

“Still.”

“Want to come and watch? I can get comps.”

Ugh, musical, Tommy thinks. “Sure,” he says out loud. Free is free. He can invite Kelsey. Won’t she be surprised. Plus they can make fun of it afterwards.

Talking with Adam is easy, far easier than Tommy had expected. He likes Adam, too. The guy is nice, he’s low-key, he’s friendly. Even if he was stalking, he doesn’t emit a true stalker vibe. There’s still that flirting thing, but Adam is also an open type and actually brings it up.

“The makeup and everything,” Adam says, gesturing with a French fry. “Not that makeup means a guy is gay, but I thought there was a chance. I’m really direct and I kind of go for what I want, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Tommy grins. “I noticed. No foul, dude. You’re not the first.”

“Awfully sure of yourself?” Adam asks, smiling back.

Tommy shrugs. “Not my fault I grew up skinny and cute.”

Adam reaches over. Tommy flinches. “Sorry,” Adam says. “I was just…” He reaches more slowly, not to spook Tommy, and lifts his bangs off his face. “Your eyes are gorgeous.”

He drops his hand and Tommy shakes his hair like a dog.

“You shouldn’t hide behind your hair,” Adam says.

“Used to have it sticking straight up.” This is a little too intimate and embarrassing for Tommy. He wolfs down the last of his burger and washes it down with a swallow of Pepsi.

“I used to be a redhead,” Adam admits.

Tommy nearly spews soda. “Are you shitting me, man?”

Adam shakes his head. “Can’t you see the freckles?” He pulls up his sleeves and tugs down the neck of his tee-shirt.

Tommy stares. “That’s a lotta freckles. Wow, rad. But you look like you were born with black hair. Like Elvis or something.”

Adam laughs. “It’s more strawberry blond, actually. Then one day I figured out that Opie ain’t rock ‘n’ roll.”

Tommy swallows wrong and chokes a little, laughing this time. “I thought you’re into musicals.”

“I am but I can love rock, too. I think it would be cool to be a rock singer.”

“Danny Elfman has red hair. Or had, maybe it’s grey now.”

“Who’s that?”

Tommy stares. “You don’t know? Oh man, I gotta educate you. You can have red hair and rock hard.”

There’s something about Adam that he really likes, so he invites Adam to his tiny apartment in nearby Burbank. They drive past the Hideaway to get Adam’s car and he follows Tommy into the Burbank flats. It’s pure kismet that his roomies are both out on dates or something worse. Tommy doesn’t want to know.

They sprawl on the threadbare carpet while Tommy plays one CD after another, starting with Oingo Boingo and moving on to X, Wall of Voodoo, Alice in Chains, the Cure, NIN, Nirvana, Korn and Manson. Adam listens politely but it’s obvious he likes other music better.

He doesn’t like beer, either, so it’s lucky that Tommy can mix a mean mai-tai, at least if there’s mai-tai mix in the freezer. They wind up giggly and intoxicated, leaning together with their backs up against the edge of the couch.

“Play something I know,” Adam says, eyeing the Stratocaster leaning against the wall.

Tommy’s comfy; he doesn’t want to move. Then he thinks maybe Adam will sing for him, so he crawls across the floor and gets the guitar and flicks the amp on low volume, just something to give the sound some bite. He leans back again, propping the guitar against his thighs, and plucks out a few chords.

“What’s that?” Adam asks.

Tommy grins. “Puff the Magic Dragon.”

“Oh, you’re shitting me.” Adam listens because Tommy doesn’t stop. “It is, oh my god. What in fuck, Tommy?”

“First song I ever learned. My uncle taught me.”

Adam starts humming, then singing. He knows only stray parts of one verse, but his voice is pure and clear and Tommy likes hearing it so he switches after awhile to a lazy version of Stairway to Heaven and sure enough, Adam knows that one. Considering how drunk they are, they think they sound damn great.

Eventually the energy it takes even for slow songs peters out and the guitar winds up lying across Tommy’s knees, humming faintly.

Adam pours a sloppy refill of whisky into Tommy’s glass, tops off his own. “Why do guitars make that noise?” he asks, downing a slug.

Tommy burps. “It’s the pickups, they’re not humbuckers.”

“That sounds vaguely filthy.”

Tommy snorts.

“Is that a nice guitar?” Adam asks.

“Naw, it’s pretty cheap. It’s okay, though. The Gibson cost more, I had to save up for that one.” Tommy belches. “It’s got humbuckers.”

“Why do you need two guitars?” Adam asks, mystified.

“Are you kidding?”

“Totally serious, a guitar’s a guitar, right?”

Tommy sighs. “Guitars are like dessert, there’s always room for one more.”

“Especially if one has bumfuckers and the other doesn’t?”

“Humfuckers,” Tommy corrects. Then giggles. “Buffhummers. Wait, that’s not right, oh shit.”

“Variety,” Adam explains. “The spice of life.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

Adam shifts until he’s pillowing his head against the couch, staring straight at Tommy’s profile. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Right now?” asks Tommy.

“Mm-hmmm. Now.”

“Nope.”

“Do you want one?”

“Now?”

“No, yesterday. Yes, now, dork.”

“Not really. I feel like I’m too busy.”

Adam’s not satisfied. “How long has it been?”

“Dude! Getting a little personal there.”

“Don’t you miss it? Like, snuggling and kissing?”

Tommy snorts and struggles to get more upright. “Dude, you are so gay.” He crawls back to the amp and switches it off and leaves the guitar propped against it. “And before you get on my ass about it, I didn’t mean gay bad, I meant gay horny.”

“That might be more insulting than the other meaning.”

“Don’t front, you’re horny,” Tommy grumbles, struggling to get to his feet.

“I am,” Adam agrees morosely. “What are you doing up there?” he asks, already forgetting the insult.

Tommy sticks out his hand. “You can’t sleep like that.”

Adam grasps his hand and Tommy hauls him up, and Adam weighs a _lot_. Compared to his own scrawny self.

“I miss it,” Adam mutters half to himself, swaying.

“Huh?”

“Snuggling. Kissing. He left me.”

Tommy is way too intoxicated for this conversation. He totally cannot follow Adam’s train of thought. He suspects Adam can’t, either. “Dude, what are you telling me?”

“Broke up. After two years.”

Ohmigod, he isn’t going to cry, is he? Tommy pushes Adam onto the couch, where he flops like a rag doll. Tommy would like to sit down, too, but he just stood up and if he sits again he will end up end sleeping right there. And wake up with serious back pain.

“It’s going to be okay. Right? It’s going to be okay?”

“I miss him.”

“Hoo boy.”

“Where’re my keys?” Adam mumbles.

But no, Tommy won’t let Adam drive like this. He finds his dad’s ratty old Army blanket and tosses it over Adam, who curls up on the couch and falls asleep. Tommy barely stumbles to his unmade bed and falls on it and wakes up in the morning. The blanket is folded on the couch and there’s a note: _Had to go to work. Thnx for the fun tiemz!_

Mike intercepts him in the kitchen with a mug of fresh coffee. “Who was that?”

Tommy takes the mug and drinks, waving vaguely in the air with the other hand. “Um, just a guy,” he says fast and scoots back to his bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Adam said something the night before about a party a month or so away, some kind of moving dinner party. Tommy has no idea what that is but he had said sure, because he likes Adam, and Adam seems to like him. Adam is fun and smart and thoughtful and funny and amazing. So long as Adam’s not looking for a rebound boyfriend, it’s all good.

Over the next week, Tommy gets itchy under the skin. Waiting isn’t his strong suit. He can’t get Adam off his mind. Fortunately there are two rehearsals this week to keep him distracted. Isaac is all excited on Thursday, talking a mile a minute while tightening a drumhead.

“You know that suit from 69Entertainment who was at the Hideaway show? I got this friend who works for a music agent and she’s friends with the receptionist at 69 and they went to lunch and the receptionist told my friend that she heard that he liked the show.”

“He was there for The Justin Bieber Experience,” says Mike.

“No, he came for the whole night. He didn’t have to show up that early if he didn’t have a reason.”

“Maybe he was taking advantage of happy hour before it ended.”

Tommy shakes his head. “Don’t remind me you got us the happy-hour time slot.”

“Hey, I’m working on a better gig, man. Don’t bust my balls.”

Other than the rehearsals, where he spends half his time fending off Ravi’s advances, there’s precious little distraction other than sitting at home, playing X-Box with Stan or watching MASH reruns with Mike.

That itch is still there two weeks later and it’s getting so fucking annoying. When he catches himself feeling it, Tommy pushes his mind to other topics. It barely helps. Even the cute girls in bars or at work seem less interesting than before. Kelsey’s very pretty and very cool but he wants her to still be his friend so he knows better than to actually try anything there because that would probably end the friendship. Don’t shit where you eat, so to speak.

Fact: Tommy doesn’t have any trouble at all getting girls to go out with him. Another fact: anytime he winds up in a relationship, it doesn’t last that long. His married older sister calls him a commitment-phobe. She and several cousins in their twenties are all married already, and some even have a kid or two by now. He’s jealous of Isaac, no lie, who’s been going steady with Sophie, a really cool chick, for a couple of years. They’re even talking marriage. Tommy can’t imagine himself married at this age and he’s a year older than Isaac and Sophie.

Tommy figures he just hasn’t met the right girl. And the right girl would be the one who can put up with his moodiness and his messiness and his need to be alone a lot, not to mention his love of movie gore and old Westerns and his refusal to consider any career not involving guitar-playing in a band. Guys know how to give each other space in a way that girls, as far as Tommy’s ever figured out, don’t.

 _Geez_ , Tommy thinks, _why can’t a girl be more like a guy?_

Immediately after that thought, he thinks, _Geez, why am I thinking about a guy so much?_

Ever since the night spent with Adam, Tommy doesn’t even think about hot girls – at all. Mike and every male friend he has would howl with laughter if they knew he’s spending so much time thinking about a guy.

When another week goes by without the itch dissipating one fucking bit, he spends a Monday night moping in the apartment, grunting one-word answers to Mike and Stan if they dare to ask him anything. They know enough to leave him alone in his bedroom, headphones plugged into the amp, guitar on his knee.

 

\+ + +

 

Even a gigantic cup of coffee doesn’t improve his mood next morning in the damn call center. Kelsey senses he’s in a shitty mood and is kinder than usual to him, even sharing her cinnamon-raisin bagel. On her break she hauls him outside while she lights up a cigarette. “Talk to mama,” she says.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “Gimme one of those.”

“You don’t smoke,” Kelsey says, blowing a perfect smoke ring and holding out the pack nonetheless.

“It’s a blue moon,” Tommy says, taking one and lighting up with her lighter.

“Ease up there, pilgrim. You’re sucking on that thing like a horny, desperate, out-of-work, down-on-his-luck, crab-infested porn star. It’s less attractive than it sounds.”

Tommy laughs and then gags on the smoke. “Damn it, don’t do that.”

“You need to go on a date, don’t you?”

“I hate you,” Tommy says.

“I hate you, too,” she says.

“I don’t get it. Why do gay guys always hit on me?”

“Maybe it’s the lip gloss, just guessing here, buddy.”

“But half the time I got five o’clock shadow!”

“That just proves you’re male. They’re gay, remember. They like what you’re packing.”

“But girls go out with me.”

Kelsey gives Tommy a thorough glare. “Who wouldn’t? Look at you. You’re a good-looking man, Tommy, and you’re a lot sweeter than that those bloody tats would lead a normal person to believe.”

“So why don’t they stay with me?”

Kelsey pulls in a long drag. “Because you need to grow up some more first.”

Tommy sighs. “You’re painfully honest, you know that?”

“It’s my middle name, baby.”

They smoke another minute or so in companionable silence. Eventually Kelsey grinds out her cigarette on the cement wall and tosses it in the trash bin. “Break’s over.” She snatches the still-glowing cigarette from Tommy’s mouth and gives it the same treatment.

“Thanks,” Tommy says.

“For what?”

“Just thanks.”

Back indoors, after walking some clueless idiots through the steps to program their favorite channels, Tommy finalizes a call and hits the _submit_ button. He stares at the computer screen. He makes a decision. He calls the front desk.

“My computer isn’t working,” he says.

It’s a long shot that Computer Qwik Fixx would send the same tech but Tommy is nothing if not hopeful. He can’t sit still but he doesn’t want to leave the cubicle, so he fidgets and picks at his nail polish, getting glittery bits all over, and taps a pencil against the desk surface until Kelsey wheels around the wall and glares at him in a kindly way. He can’t even mess around on the computer while waiting, because supposedly it’s broken.

And all of a sudden, here’s Adam striding down the thin carpeting with a huge grin on his face, dumping his backpack and rubbing his hands together. “Hey, computer just won’t behave, huh?”

Tommy lifts one shoulder and drops it, pretending casualness. He moves to stand but Adam puts a hand on his shoulder. “Stay there,” he says, crouching and dragging the keyboard over.

“M&M?” Tommy offers.

“Sure.” Adam holds out his hand and Tommy pours a few into it. Adam tosses them in his mouth in one go and crunches happily.

Adam’s very close to Tommy now, their shoulders touching. Tommy can feel Adam’s shoulder moving against his as he types. Adam seems very focused on the screen. Then Adam stops typing. Tommy holds his breath. Adam leans in very close, his lips almost against Tommy’s ear.

“There isn’t anything wrong with your computer,” he whispers softly, “is there?”

 _Oh shit busted._ Tommy blushes to the roots of his hair. “Um, there was?” he whispers back.

Adam pulls back and smiles at Tommy. “For real?”

Tommy's cheeks are on fire. He must look beet red right about now.

“I missed you, too,” Adam says, still talking very quietly. He’s enjoying this, the bastard. “You could have just called.”

Tommy flips the bird down low. He reclines in the chair enough to look each way down the line of cubicles. “You can’t tell The Man.”

“The Man?”

“The Man.”

“But it would be wrong to bill for a visit made under false pretenses.”

“I was bored. It’s like worker’s comp or something,” Tommy retorts.

“Is that _my_ problem?” Adam’s probably teasing because there’s that cute little smile.

“Plus which, I need the job.”

Adam winks. “Just this once, then.”

Tommy exhales. He was a tiny bit worried for a moment there. Adam’s so straight-up and open and honest and all that.

Adam nods to himself. “I’ll upgrade the RAM, that way I won’t feel like a cad.” He unzips his backpack and digs out a disc.

“You want the chair?” Tommy asks, lifting slightly.

Adam puts a hand on Tommy’s thigh to push down gently. “Nope. I’m nearly done.”

When he is done, he leans in close again and whispers in Tommy’s ear, “Next time, just call me, okay?”

Tommy swallows and nods. They’d exchanged phone numbers back at Tommy’s place, but Tommy feels too awkward to use it yet. That night wasn’t a _date_ , for fuck’s sake. Which is pretty obvious because Adam was willing to wait a long time to see him again.

Adam’s not done, quite. “Friday night, meet me at my place and my friend Dani’s going to pick us up and be the driver. I’ll text my address.”

Tommy has no idea what is involved. Why is someone else driving?

Adam rises and grabs his backpack. “I’ll go see The Man and let him know I’m done.”

Tommy swallows. That kind of got rid of the itch. He steers clear of Kelsey and her knowing smiles for the rest of the day, though.

 

\+ + +

 

Friday can’t come fast enough. Tommy trusts himself with only one text – _is their a dress code?_ – to which Adam responds _LOL no_.

Even so, he keeps changing from one t-shirt to another. He’s got only about five that he actually likes, but he can’t decide which would impress Adam’s friends the most. He has only one black leather jacket, so that’s settled, and all his jeans are identical – he just wears whichever pair is cleanest at any given moment. He likes his creepers but figures the boots are cooler.

His roommates, now that they sense he’s in a better mood, rib Tommy mercilessly. It’s true that Adam isn’t like most of Tommy’s friends. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t even considered inviting Adam to group things with his own friends, because they’ll just mock him. Or maybe it’s because he and his slovenly roommates never have group things, like parties, because they live in what is more or less a pigsty. Even Mike’s own mother refuses to enter the place.

He spends so much time on makeup and poofing up his hair that he loses track of time; races downstairs and jumps into his crappy car and makes good time over the Cahuenga pass to Adam’s apartment building in the Hollywood flats. Turns out to be one of those Egyptian-themed buildings, which doesn’t surprise Tommy, knowing Adam. There’s something very theatrical about Adam.

Adam is already out on the sidewalk. He introduces Danielle, a pretty woman with brown hair and a big smile. Tommy gets in the back seat of her grownup sedan and as they drive they explain what the party is: basically having each course of the meal at someone else’s place. Adam rides shotgun, navigating with the use of his Macbook Air and some apparent hookup via his iPhone that gives him wi-fi inside the car. It’s too much for Tommy to take in.

Aperitifs are at Sutan’s apartment near Fairfax. Danielle’s driving so she has to stick with soda; Tommy pities her because the drinks that Sutan makes are amazing. Tommy could learn to get beyond PBR.

There are nearly two dozen people, including three toweringly tall drag queens, participating in this party, and every single one of them gives Adam a giant hug and kiss on the cheek, and it’s like he’s the life of the party. Adam introduces Tommy to everyone. Tommy can be shy in crowds if he doesn’t know the individuals, though, so he hangs near Adam most of the time, and Adam doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Sutan, though, he likes right away, even if the guy is even more flirtatious than Adam. It’s so clear that Sutan isn’t doing it for any ulterior motive. “Hey, honey, aren’t you a pretty little thing? You are so cute I want to pinch your cheeks,” is the first thing he says to Tommy upon being introduced. “Adam, where’d you find this beauty?”

Adam shrugs. “He’s not gay, Sutan.”

Sutan looks Tommy up and down thoroughly. “That’s too bad, honey. I’m so sorry to hear it.” He smiles, though. “Good thing we have some ladies at this party, then.”

After less than an hour, Sutan rushes them all out and down to their cars to go to the next place for the soup course. Sutan joins them in Danielle’s car, getting in back with Tommy and bringing a last martini for him. Tommy sips it gratefully while Danielle warns him to keep it out of sight.

At each place they get more drinks with the food – which includes salad, home-baked bread, a main course surrounded by two side dishes, and then dessert – and by the end of the evening Tommy feels way more comfortable with Adam’s friends.

Last stop is Adam’s apartment. Everyone crowds into the tiny living room, propped on floor pillows and hanging off the sofa arms, or rolling around holding their stomachs and howling about how fucking full they are, while Adam makes coffee and hot toddies. There’s some spillage into his office space, which has the world’s most gigantic computer setup. Tommy wouldn’t know what to do with half of it, but he’s willing to bet you could play some awesome games on the huge screen.

Not being able to hang around Adam here because the kitchen is too tiny and Tommy’s useless in a kitchen anyway, he inspects Adam’s collection of CDs near the computer. Adam is the kind of guy who plays his music on his computer. He doesn’t even have a stereo. The CDs are appallingly skewed towards pop music: ‘N Sync, Madonna, Rihanna, Katy Perry, and even worse. He finds a CD of Queen and that makes him feel a bit better, like they might have _something_ in common musically.

He sacks out on a big throw pillow in the corner of the room and closes his eyes, a hot toddy balanced on his chest. Maybe he even naps a little, because when his eyes finally open he’s alone except for Adam, who is snoring, stretched full length on the sofa.

Tommy sets aside the toddy glass, which miraculously hadn’t fallen, and crawls over to the sofa. “Hey, Adam, are you awake?”

Adam snorts and wriggles.

Tommy considers. He needs to piss badly, so there’s no help for it. He levers himself upright and stumbles off in search of the bathroom. He takes care of business, flushes, checks himself in the mirror above the sink. His hair is a flattened mess on one side. No amount of fluffing fixes it. He sighs.

Back in the living room, Adam is awake, rubbing at his eyes. “See? It’s a great type of party, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I’m stuffed now.”

“My friends like you,” Adam says sweetly.

Tommy grins. “I like them, too. They’re nice. Good cooks, also.” He rubs his tummy.

“What time’s it?” Adam asks, looking at his wrist, but there’s no watch.

Tommy reaches into his pocket and consults his phone. “Past two a.m.”

“You should stay,” Adam says, getting up slowly and stretching and yawning. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and get into bed.”

Tommy looks at the sofa.

“I’ll get you a blanket,” Adam offers. “Actually, fuck that, I have a queen-size bed. It’ll fit both of us and it’s way more comfy than that sofa.” He rubs at his lower back.

Tommy fidgets.

“Don’t say it,” Adam says wearily. “I already know: you’re not gay.”

“I wasn’t going to –“

“Yes, you were,” Adam says, gently now. “I can respect that.”

“Can we just be friends?” Tommy asks. Because he really likes Adam and wants to keep him as a friend.

“That’s what I want,” Adam says. “Also, I want to hug you right now. Can I hug you?”

Tommy blinks. A hug? He doesn’t mind hugs from the right people. Adam definitely qualifies. He nods and Adam wraps him up in long arms and pulls Tommy right against his chest. It feels awesome, warm and sweet and protected.

“Okay, tooth brushing time,” Adam says, releasing him. He saunters towards the bathroom. “Let me know if you want a blanket.”

Tommy ponders his choices, including getting in his car and heading for Burbank. He knows better, though; there’s still too much booze in his system. He looks at the sofa. Then he follows Adam’s path to the small hallway. The bathroom door is closed. Tommy slips into the only other doorway which is the bedroom. He toes off his boots and, after thinking about it a bit, peels off his jeans and slips under the covers, hoping he’s not hogging Adam’s favorite side. The bed is soft yet firm, just perfect. The sheets feel clean but smell just a bit like Adam smelled when he got hugged back in the living room.

The bathroom door opens and then light switches are clicked and the apartment goes dark. Adam clumps into the room and shimmies out of his own pants and then sits right down on Tommy.

“Ow!” and “What the fuck!” and then they realize what happened and laugh. Adam slips to the floor. “You scared me for a second.”

Tommy shuffles across the bed to the far side. “I should have figured that was your side.”

Adam gets up and fumbles into the covers. “Oooh, you warmed the sheets up for me. Thanks, love,” Adam giggles. “You’re the best.”

Tommy snickers. Adam is right, there’s plenty of room for both of them if Tommy just stays near the edge. He’s never going to tell his roommates about this, though.


	3. Chapter 3

It goes like that – they sometimes watch a movie together, or go out for a drink. Tommy goes to _Wicked_ with Kelsey, who likes it a lot more than he does. Still, it’s fun to watch Adam even if he doesn’t get a solo.

Adam takes him out on, like, dates but not-dates. Adam likes to escort him around and teach him about new things. Tommy’s happy so long as it’s with Adam. Even the Shakespeare play at the theater wasn’t bad, _Two Gentlemen of Somewhere or Other_. It was actually pretty funny, when he could figure out what they were saying.

Or they hang around at each other’s places, Adam singing a few songs while Tommy strums simple chords on his old acoustic guitar. Sometimes they stay over. Tommy sleeps in Adam’s bed and Adam’s a perfect gentleman, it’s totally okay. At Tommy’s place, Adam has to use the couch, though, because no way could Tommy take the mocking he’d get from the roommates. Adam looks a little sad that Tommy worries about that, but he goes along with it, tucks up under the blanket and Tommy wishes him good night and disappears into his room.

They’re becoming friends, and it’s fun. Tommy wasn’t looking for another friend but sometimes that’s when you find a good one. Sometimes he thinks Adam is still kind of interested in him, but Adam never does anything that makes him uncomfortable. Tommy gets really used to Adam’s encompassing hugs. He doesn’t mind when Adam kisses his cheek or the top of his head. Adam sometimes talks about how he believes that sexuality can be fluid, that he believes in the Kinsey scale, whatever the fuck that is. Tommy has a tendency to tune out what he doesn’t understand; Adam doesn’t seem to care, or notice, he just enjoys talking and informing people of things and Tommy’s not about to impinge on that enjoyment. There's no ulterior motive in Adam's talkativeness.

Even when Adam drags him to the Museum of Contemporary Art downtown, Tommy doesn’t voice a word of protest. Tommy’s never been much for museums. They’re too quiet and formal. He feels like he doesn’t fit in with that crowd. Still, it’s time spent with Adam. It winds up being kind of fun. He and Adam aren’t the only ones with interesting hair and multiple earrings. Adam shows Tommy his favorite painting. Tommy doesn’t get it, like, at all. It’s just white canvas and there’s a big blob of red and one long black line.

“Is that art?” Tommy asks after staring at it for a long while.

Adam laughs, and that’s a sound Tommy will never get tired of. He loves when he puts a smile on Adam’s face or gets him to laugh out loud.

“Oh honey, yes, it’s art,” Adam says.

Tommy squints at the painting one last time. “Are you sure? It looks to me like a guy with two cans of spray paint.”

Adam giggles again. “You’re such a little rebel. It’s art, trust me.”

Apparently he’s going to have to take Adam’s word for it.

In a corner of another room they find a gigantic pile of wrapped pieces of candy.

“Is _that_ art?” Tommy asks.

Adam reads the plaque on the wall and tries to interpret for Tommy. It’s art, but they’re allowed to have a piece of candy, so they do. Apparently it’s interactive art. It’s a brave new world for Tommy; he’s learning so much he never knew.

“How come you know all this kind of shit?” Tommy asks later, when they are sitting on plastic benches at a taco stand.

“My mom is into art. Wherever we traveled as kids, she took us to art museums.”

Tommy nods and chews thoughtfully.

“So, museums aren’t so awful?” Adam asks, sounding a little worried.

Tommy swallows and nods vigorously.

The Getty Center is even better. Riding on the little monorail from the parking structure to the top of the bluff, Tommy plays smiley faces with a shy little girl sitting across the aisle. When they get out and walk to the very top, Tommy can’t stop saying “Wow.” He says it at least ten times in the first half-hour. He’s not talking about the art, he’s talking about the view. He’s had enough art for one day, but this place? He could stay here forever.

Adam buys sandwiches and drinks at the café and they find a quiet spot overlooking the gardens and Santa Monica and Century City. They sit cross-legged on the sun-warmed limestone, the fresh breeze making a mess of Tommy’s hair but not Adam’s.

“More product,” Adam explains. “I’ve got some great stuff I can show you.” He tucks Tommy’s bangs behind one ear. “Although you’re cute like this, too.”

Tommy sticks out his tongue. “I’m less girly than you, I don’t care about my hair.”

“Sure,” Adam says affably, enjoying his sandwich.

Tommy tosses a potato chip in the air and tries to catch it in his mouth. Turns out that’s harder than with M&Ms he misses completely.

“You’re littering,” Adam says with a frown.

“A squirrel will get it.”

Adam huffs. “Do you _see_ a squirrel? This place is pristine. A squirrel wouldn’t _dare_.”

“I saw a candy wrapper in one of those pool thingies.”

“Okay, then. Are you a ten-year-old?”

Tommy picks up the chip and eats it.

“Tommy!”

“What? Three-second rule.”

Adam shakes his head. “You are such a boy.”

“You love it.”

“I kind of do.”

“Stop, dude, TMI.”

Adam laughs and tousles Tommy’s hair. “Friends?”

Tommy nods. God, Adam’s a dork. Tommy leans back on his hands and sighs with enormous contentment. “I wanna live up here forever and never leave,” he says.

“Really?”

“Sure, there’s a lot of buildings. Bet there’s room for me somewhere. I wouldn’t get in the way.”

“It would be nice, wouldn’t it? You could sit up here and dream about being a rock star.”

“I’m already a rock star.”

“Of course you are.”

Tommy grins. “Come on, you know I’m gonna make it big.”

“It’s good to have dreams.”

“I don’t have dreams, I have plans.”

“I’m not embarrassed to say I have dreams,” says Adam. “I love computers, don’t get me wrong, but it would be so killer to sing for a career.”

Tommy squints up at him. “You already do that.”

“No, I mean like sing pop music, like be the headliner. I think I’m good enough.”

Tommy nods. “You’re for sure good enough. You should go for it. Can’t win if you don’t play.”

Adam scans the landscape, nodding his head slowly. “Have you seen that American Idol show?”

“I’ve heard of it. Never watched it.”

“I’m thinking of auditioning.”

It sounds weird to Tommy, but hey, whatever it takes to get noticed. He’s not going to judge someone trying to make it in the music business. “I bet you’d blow them all away.”

Adam puts his arm around Tommy’s shoulders and snugs him close. “What if we just stayed here forever and didn’t go back down to the parking garage?”

“They’ll find your car and tow it.”

“It’ll be worth it.”

“Yeah, ha. Who knew I’d like a museum?”

Adam grins. “Some day I’m going to take you a poetry slam and then an opera.”

Those threats don’t bother Tommy at all. Over the space of a few months he’s become great friends, maybe best friends, with Adam. Because Adam is just plain awesome. He feels ready to share more of himself with Adam; it’s his turn to invite Adam to something: it’s time for Adam to get to know Tommy’s awful male friends, the ones who fart and spit and belch and scratch their armpits and go to titty bars. It’s kind of a test. If Adam can put up with these guys, then nothing will chase him away.

Mike and Tommy and Isaac and a bunch of their guy friends have a tradition of going to a back-country campsite in the Angeles National Forest for a Saturday night of drinking and shooting the shit and swimming in a waterfall-fed pool. They tend not to ask their chick friends along because they assume (correctly as Sophie once made very clear) that women don’t want to hang around men drinking themselves ill around a fire pit in a place where regular showers and toilets aren’t readily available. Mike already asked Ravi to come, though, so Tommy figures anyone at all is welcome.

“Camping?” Adam looks very uncertain. “As in outdoors?”

“Duh,” says Tommy. “It’s easy and fun. No big deal.”

“My dad and brother used to go camping in Anza-Borrego but I was allowed to beg off. I don’t really like sweating that much.”

“That was a desert, this is a forest. You’ll love it,” Tommy declares confidently, while considering the likelihood of his sister letting him bum an extra sleeping bag off her. “Think Sutan might like to come?”

 

\+ + +

 

The hike to the campsite is grueling, at least for the one who has to carry the ice chest of beer. Other than that they have some sleeping bags, burgers to grill in a small cooler, and precious little else.

Their usual camping spot with the handy if illegal rock-lined fire pit is empty; clearly it hasn’t been used in months.

The beer drinking commences immediately. In Sutan's case, he brought a flask of martini mix. It’s late afternoon, so the mountains are still warm and bright. The campsite gets set up, with Mike barking out instructions about not pooping or peeing near the stream, and no leaving cigarette butts in the dirt.

“We’re not going to set the forest on fire, are we?” Adam asks Tommy. He looks worried.

“Naw, we know how to handle a fire,” Tommy says. “Come here, I’ll show you where we can put the sleeping bags.”

“Are there snakes?”

“Probably? They won’t bug us, trust me.” But Tommy can tell that Adam doesn’t trust him one bit.

“Are there bears?”

“I don’t think so.”

“There’s a place called Big Bear just down the road. I looked on Wikipedia before we left.”

Tommy scratches the stubbly side of his head. “Maybe the bears all live down there?”

Adam isn’t satisfied. “Is there a tent at least?”

Tommy blows his bangs out of his eyes. “You wanted a tent? You couldn’t tell me back in L.A.? I thought you said you went to that Burning Man thing in the desert?”

“We stayed in someone’s RV.”

“Lame,” says Tommy. “This is the real thing here. Your manliness will increase by three sizes today. Be a man, son.”

Adam laughs. “I’m not worried about my manliness. We don’t all aspire to be John Wayne.”

“You can just enjoy my manliness, in that case,” Tommy says. He shows Adam how to clear a spot of rocks and then they lay out the sleeping bags, keeping them fully zipped up. “I’m not gonna lie, it’ll be lumpier than your sofa, even, but a night out in the woods is totally worth it.”

Ravi shows up and tosses his sleeping bag next to Tommy’s.

“Um,” Tommy says, his eyes jerking up to Adam’s with a panicked _help me_ look.

Adam stares wide-eyed, just as disturbed.

“Hey, Tommy,” Ravi says, maneuvering between Adam and Tommy, “how about a walk through the woods?”

Tommy gestures wordlessly.

“I’ll come with,” Adam throws in decisively.

Ravi glares at Adam. “We don’t need you.”

“Yeah, we do,” Tommy counters. “What if there’s a bear?”

Adam frowns. “I wouldn’t be any good in that situation. I’d run like a college co-ed in a horror flick.”

“You shouldn’t come. I won’t be able to save you,” Ravi says, as though Adam had even suggested requiring such a thing from him. “I’ll be busy saving Tommy.”

“Wait a minute, I’d save Tommy first and then run,” Adam adds as an afterthought.

“You’ll be half a mile away. I’ll be the one saving Tommy,” Ravi insists.

“Dude!” Tommy says. “I got this! I do not need to be saved, guys.”

He sets off fast down a path through tall trees. He only lets up when the trees open up to a small pool fed by a straggling waterfall, where several of the guys are already skinny-dipping. Ravi tries hard to entice Tommy to join them but Tommy refuses to go in the water. Ravi calls them chicken and strips down and belly-flops into the midst of the splashing.

“Sutan likes my friends,” Tommy says, grinning.

“He gets along with everyone,” says Adam. “You might not think it at first, but he’s just so cool and funny and laid back that everyone likes him.”

Tommy nods. “I like him a lot.”

“I’m kind of surprised he’s taking so well to nature, no lie.”

“You’ve been deprived,” Tommy says with a smirk. “Sutan is smart.”

“Do you like swimming? Want to go in?” asks Adam.

Tommy shrugs. “I don’t want to. But you shouldn’t stay out of the water on my account.”

Adam shakes his head. “Pass.”

Tommy shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. “Hey, Adam?”

“Hmmm?” Adam looks up from his iPhone, which he’s been using to identify species of pine trees. Apparently he's got a special phone that gets a signal anywhere at all.

“Wanna see my favorite place?”

“Sure.”

Tommy doesn’t wait to see if Adam follows. He heads back down the path through the trees. Adam catches up pretty soon and they follow a fork in the trail for a half-mile or so until the trees open up and there’s a broad, high vista of mountains and hills and trees and boulders and sky and nothing else.

“Amazing,” says Adam, stopping beside Tommy to look over the valley. “This is so beautiful.”

“Toldya.” Tommy stands near the cliff edge, hands on hips, enjoying the waning sunlight.

Adam sniffs. “It even smells good, all fresh and piney.” He pulls out his iPhone. “I think that’s the Jeffrey pine that smells so amazing. It’s supposed to smell like a vanilla bean.”

“Put away your phone, dork,” Tommy teases. “Just enjoy it.” But he’s glad now, because he can see that Adam is really enjoying it. The sunlight on Adam’s face makes his freckles almost glow. There might be a smudge of leftover eyeliner around Adam’s eyes, but mostly his face is clean of makeup, just like Tommy’s. No point in dressing up to hang out in the forest with a bunch of men who think it’s okay to fart at will so long as no members of the fairer sex are in evidence.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Adam says, beaming.

Tommy grins back and nods. “Wanna head back and help Mike with the burgers? That way we get first dibs.”

It’s almost dark when they find the campsite. Tommy stokes the fire that Mike started until it grows high and dances merrily. Burgers are sizzling on a small hibachi.

“Pull up a rock,” he says as others drag in, wearing dampish clothing. Mike flips the burgers until they’re half-burnt and then slams them into fire-toasted rolls and passes them around.

“Everything tastes better cooked outdoors,” announces Dalton, Mike’s crazy-ass friend who’s visiting from Austin.

“Don’t no one give their food to any bears or coyotes,” says Oracio, Tommy’s best friend who grew up on the same street in Burbank.

Adam looks at Tommy, doing that wide-eyed thing again. Tommy shakes his head minutely and says quietly, “He’s trying to get a rise out of the noobs. Hey, puta!” he hollers. “Toss me a brew.”

Oracio picks one from the cooler and tosses it. Tommy catches it smoothly and pops the top.

“We got scotch, tequila and vodka,” Oracio says. “Just in case.” He pours scotch into a plastic cup and hands it down to Sutan. “Who else?”

“Never Have I Ever!” Isaac howls.

“Oh my gawd no,” Mike says immediately.

“I want to!” Ravi interrupts.

“So we’re teenage girls now?” Mike asks no one in particular.

“Yes!” Ravi says excitedly. “Me first! Never have I ever… got blown by a drag queen.”

Isaac spits beer across the fire.

“Ew, dude,” says Tommy, wiping beer off his arm.

“Why does it always have to be about sex?” Mike whines. “Use some imagination for a change.”

Ravi flips Mike off casually. “So we’re grownup women feminists now?”

“Hey, if the foo shits –“

Ravi rolls his eyes. “Okay, try this, hotshot. Never have I ever… played with Barbie dolls.”

God damn it. Tommy tosses off a shot. “What? My cousin has two little girls, okay?” He’s glad to see that Adam also takes a drink. At least he’s not the only one who’s played with dolls.

Ravi flips Tommy off. “Your turn,” Ravi says bitchily, pointing at Mike.

“It’s rude to point,” Isaac says.

Ravi points at Isaac and then flips him off. Isaac breaks into guffaws of laughter.

Mike scrunches up his face. “Okay, I’ve never played _Smoke on the Water_ at a live gig.”

No one drinks. “This means you have to take the drink,” Isaac says helpfully.

“Are we playing that version?” Mike groans.

“Definitely,” Isaac says. “Drink up, dick.”

Dalton raises his hand. “I’ve never read _Moby Dick._ ”

Sutan, Ravi and Adam are the only ones who drink.

“Aha, I knew it,” Sutan says. “We’re the only cultured ones sitting around this fire.”

“It’s a great book,” Adam says to Tommy. “Not what you might be expecting. You can borrow my Kindle and read it.”

Tommy thinks that’s pretty sweet of Adam but he couldn’t even make it through a thin book. He smiles for Adam’s sake, though.

“I’ve never lied to a priest,” Adam announces.

“You’ve never been to a priest!” Sutan says. “You’re not fucking Catholic!”

“Is a bear Catholic?” Isaac muses randomly. “Does the pope shit in the woods?”

“Unlikely,” Adam opines.

“Easy for you to say, infidel dog,” Sutan snarls.

“Haha, just drink up,” Adam says, watching him and Tommy with glee.

Tommy downs a slug of beer dutifully, belches, and says, “I’ve never been to Kentucky,” because he knows Adam has.

“What’s Kentucky?” asks Oracio.

“Just drink,” Tommy replies.

“Why? I’ve never been there.”

“Just drink. You know you want to.”

“I never kissed a girl,” Sutan says.

Adam groans. “You shit. Now you’ve outed me.” He empties his plastic cup and pours more. He winks at Tommy, who is staring hard at him.

“I’ve never stolen anything,” says Isaac.

Oh fuck, Tommy thinks. I’m going to be so drunk. Also, Adam side-eyes him. Uh oh, he disappointed Adam. “Guitar strings,” he whispers. “I never had any money when I was a kid.”

Adam still looks disappointed. Fuck, can’t please everyone, Tommy thinks. “Oracio, buddy, whatcha got?”

Oracio grins wickedly. “I never kissed a boy.”

The outing around the fire isn’t exactly earth-shattering. Ravi and Adam and Sutan are the only ones. At this point, Tommy feels drunk enough that he starts thinking about what it might be like to kiss a boy. Especially one like Adam, say.

“We could play spin the bottle,” Ravi says, spreading fear and loathing.

“What? No! We’re all guys,” Mike says.

“Some of us are gay,” Sutan says with a glare.

“So what?” says Mike. “You want to kiss your buddy? Hell, you want to kiss _me_?”

“Not really,” Sutan admits.

Ravi snorts. “Some of you really need to see what it’s like to kiss a guy. It’s better than girls! Here, I’ll show you.” He practically leaps across the fire and lands next to Tommy, who gets his hand up in the nick of time to avoid Ravi’s lips on his; instead he winds up kissing the back of his own hand and feels Ravi’s tongue on his palm. Ewwww!

“How many times I gotta tell you, I’m not gay!” Tommy yells, as everyone else except Adam breaks into loud laughter. Tommy crawls over to the other side of Adam so he can be away from Ravi.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Ravi says reasonably.

“I’ll protect you,” Adam says, tucking Tommy under his arm. “Come on, Ravi, you have to respect Tommy’s sexuality.”

Ravi fumes. “Kinsey scale.”

Adam blinks because that’s his line.

“No harm, no foul,” Tommy says sourly. “Just no spin the fucking bottle, okay? Oracio, I need more scotch or whatever you got the most of over there.”

They get very drunk. And then they tell scary stories. Tommy recycles something from a horror movie he saw once. Dalton tells a real story about a rattlesnake that woke up in his sleeping bag with him in Texas. Adam gives a highly dramatic reading of Poe’s _The Raven_ off his iPad and gets roundly mocked for bringing so much tech to the primeval forest, even though the poem is greatly appreciated. Ravi tells a horrifically frightening and unusually realistic story about some campers and a serial killer escaped from an insane asylum.


	4. Chapter 4

When Tommy has to go into the dark woods to take a leak, he looks over his shoulder more than once. On the way back to the fire, he runs into Adam.

“Bathroom break?” Adam asks. Tommy nods. “Why’d he have to tell that story?” Adam continues. “It’s so beautiful out here and now I can’t enjoy it because all I can think of is rabid bears and crazy axe murderers.”

Tommy nods vigorously. “He knows how to be creepy.” He shivers all over, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched from the darkness between the tree trunks. He squares his shoulders and stands straighter. John Wayne wouldn’t let a mere scary story bother him. “Hey, we’ve been coming out here since we were fifteen and nothing’s ever happened.”

“That’s good to hear. Because I’ve never stayed somewhere like this at night.”

Tommy shrugs. “It’s cool, right? You’re glad you came?”

“Definitely.” Adam’s white teeth glint in the faint light. “You’re amazing, Tommy. Thank you for showing me something new.”

Tommy grins up at Adam, even if he can barely see anything. “You’re welcome.”

Adam shifts and shuffles his feet.

“’Sup?” Tommy asks. “You okay?”

“A hug would be nice right about now.”

Adam loves to hug Tommy; that’s something Tommy figured out awhile back. The funny part is how much Tommy has come to love being hugged by Adam. He steps into Adam’s embrace, his arms going around Adam’s waist while Adam pulls him in, snuggling Tommy against his chest, one hand in Tommy’s hair and the other around his back. “You smell even better than the pine trees,” he says.

“I probably stink. Need a shower,” Tommy mumbles, half-muffled against Adam’s jacket.

“Smells okay to me.”

“Adam, you’re a dork.” Tommy snuggles in deeper, his head tucked under Adam’s chin. The temperature is dropping fast, according to the iPhone, and Adam’s so deliciously warm.

“Are you sure we won’t get visited by a bear?” Adam asks.

“I’ll protect you,” Tommy promises.

Like every Western movie cliché, an owl hoots far off.

The enveloping darkness is thick, velvety, even sensuous. Fucking A, Adam is so comfortable. Plus his hugs last forever. He’s the only male friend – actually the only friend, period – who can get away with this hugging shit. Tommy’s not sure what that means to him as a straight man. He’s known Adam a few months now and the guy has gotten under his skin in the best way. He’s open and loving, he’s funny, he is supportive to all his friends, he encourages everyone to keep striving for their dreams. Tommy feels so lucky. For a moment he even stops hating his call-center job because otherwise he would never have met Adam. His heart nearly skips a beat when he remembers how rude he was at first to Adam. Thank fuck Adam was persistent and pushy.

Abruptly the clearing floods with bright light like an alien ship landing out of nowhere, startling the shit out of Tommy.

“What the fuck!” he yells, yanking an arm free to shade his eyes.

Ravi has nailed them in the beam of a powerful flashlight. Adam and Tommy gape, Bambi-eyed, caught in what feels like an illicit embrace.

“Turn that off, asshole!” Tommy barks.

Ravi lowers the flashlight beam. He looks very displeased.

Oh yeah? Well, Tommy’s very displeased, too. He hangs onto Adam. He’s not going to act guilty, no way. “What is your damage?” he asks.

“The woods are dangerous in the dark,” says Ravi. “I thought you were alone. I thought you might be in trouble.”

“I was pissing,” Tommy says prissily.

“I’m protecting him,” Adam says.

“From what?” Ravi asks. “If a bear showed up right now, what would you do?”

Adam looks over his shoulder uncomfortably but doesn’t let go of Tommy.

Ravi sneers and turns and walks away, taking the light with him.

Adam breathes out a sigh of relief. “He doesn’t like me.”

“Wanna trade? He _does_ like me.”

“No thanks.” Adam laughs. “God, I nearly had a coronary.” He squeezes Tommy hard and then releases him. “It’s probably time for sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah.” They go back to the campsite, Adam’s arm around Tommy’s shoulders the whole way.

 

\+ + +

 

It’s quiet at last, or relatively quiet, once the loud laughter devolves into drunken snores. It takes more drink than Tommy’s had, though, for him to fall asleep fast. He always fidgets on the first night in a campground, the uneven ground never comfortable. It’s worth it because he loves the night sounds that the forest makes, the uncertain rustling in the underbrush that he knows is small rodents seeking food under cover of darkness and the call of an owl or the yip of coyotes one or two canyons over. His mummy-shaped sleeping bag is zipped to his neck and it’s toasty-warm inside, tempered by a delightful zing of cold on his face. It’s even more pleasant because he knows it’s temporary and tomorrow he’ll be back in his own soft bed with a hot shower down the hall and an automatic coffeemaker in the kitchen. Not to mention a flush toilet. Vastly contented, he sighs and shuffles to the left to avoid a small rock that’s digging into his back.

He hears someone nearby fidgeting inside a sleeping bag; for a moment he’s afraid to turn around and find Ravi inching closer, ever closer. Then he hears a voice, Adam’s. Praise the Flying Spaghetti Monster, Ravi is still snuffling in his sleep.

“Tommy?” Whispered quietly. “Are you awake?”

Tommy rolls over and looks at Adam, who’s very close. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m fucking freezing.”

“You are?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Nope, warm as a plate of fresh fajitas.”

Adam shuffles, causing his sleeping bag to rustle loudly. Tommy’s sister’s sleeping bag isn’t mummy style, it’s like a big rectangle with a dumb flannel lining. Tommy had thought it would be good enough given that temperatures aren’t that low in the mountains yet, but he must have been wrong. Or Adam’s a wuss.

“Is it zipped up all the way?”

“Yes.”

“I’m gonna guess you left your clothes on.”

“Everything. Except I took off my boots.” It sounds like his teeth might be chattering.

Fuuuuuck. There could be a blanket or something in the van but Tommy doesn’t feel like hunting around in the dark for it. He’s slept in Adam’s bed so it won’t be that big a deal to share a sleeping bag. The trouble is that there’s no way Adam will fit in the mummy bag with him, and he’s gotten it so warm and cozy. Still, he’s responsible for Adam’s comfort because he dragged Adam out here to the wilderness. He whispers, “Adam, hey, Adam.”

“W-w-what?”

“Unzip, I’m coming in.”

“Huh?”

“Sshhh, you wanna wake the others? Unzip the bag, I’m gonna warm you up.” Tommy starts unzipping his own as slowly and quietly as he can. “Hurry the fuck up, I’m exposed!” Since Adam still doesn’t seem to get it, Tommy kneels up and unzips the damn thing himself. He pulls his sweater and jacket from the foot of the mummy bag and shoves them down to the foot of Adam’s bag, then climbs in. “Shove over,” he says, “this is going to be a squeeze.” Tommy’s not sure how, but Adam is not all that cooperative so Tommy has to even zip it up himself, and then somehow squirm around until he’s chest to chest with Adam, wrapping one arm around Adam’s neck and tangling their legs together.

“Better?” he murmurs.

“Hands are frozen.”

The big baby. Tommy pulls one of Adam’s hands into his armpit and yeah, that’s like a block of ice in a sensitive place but he can’t let Adam lose any fingers.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Adam sighs.

Tommy finds Adam’s other hand and manages to put it between his legs. That’s kind of awkward but nothing’s warmer than armpits and crotches.

“Um,” Adam begins.

“Just want you to remember,” Tommy whispers, “when I want a favor, there’s no begging off, ‘cause this is like putting an ice cube down my shorts.”

Wisely, Adam goes silent. Tommy regrets the loss of warmth from his own bag and knows he’ll lose more heat for a while, but eventually the combined heat will warm them both. The things he does for people, sheesh.

“Thanks,” Adam whispers in Tommy’s ear. “I’m getting warmer.”

“Good,” Tommy whispers back.

“For such a scrawny guy, you kick off a lot of B.T.U.’s.”

Tommy snorts. Ten more minutes, and he’s actually warmer than he was in the mummy bag. “Mmmm,” he murmurs, “feels good.”

Ten minutes later, Adam whispers, “Tommy?”

“Wha’?” Tommy slurs.

“I have to pee.”

 

\+ + +

 

They wind up at Tommy’s favorite place again, wearing their jackets and bringing along Sis’s sleeping bag. They perch on the rock ledge overlooking the moonlit valley and wrap the sleeping bag around their shoulders. Tommy’s warm against Adam’s side. He finds a spliff and a book of matches in his jacket pocket and shows them to Adam, who nods.

“Still got some booze sloshing around but whatever,” Adam says, as Tommy lights it. “The stars here remind me of being at Burning Man. Not that it ever gets quite dark enough there. Or anywhere near this quiet. But around 3 a.m. every morning, when the drunks were finally passed out and most of the lights were off, the stars were fucking amazing. It felt like eternity.”

“Yeah,” Tommy sighs, handing the spliff to Adam. “Wow. Makes me feel so tiny.”

Adam inhales, holds it. Breathes it out. “You are tiny.”

“Shut up, I meant compared to all that.” Tommy waves vaguely in the direction of the celestial show. He takes the spliff back and contemplates eternity. He turns and looks at Adam’s profile, backlit by glittering stars. “Shotgun?”

Adam’s head turns slowly. Wow. Starlight can actually cast shadows. Tommy sucks in a deep breath on the spliff, then holds it away and leans up while Adam leans down. Adam’s lips are amazingly soft. Tommy fits their mouths together and breathes into Adam’s mouth slowly, the smoke curling between them warm and sweet.

He pulls back and Adam follows him, keeping the connection another moment. Then backs off and exhales slowly.

“God.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a prick tease, Tommy, you know that?”

Tommy giggle-snorts. He knows he is. He’s a jackass, such a creep. Is this all fair to Adam? Just because he loves Adam and thinks he’s awesome and wants to be with him, like, most of the time? Tommy takes a long drag, making the tip of the spliff glow. The stars are dancing – in his head anyway; Adam’s hand is slipping beneath his tee-shirt and finding bare skin; the air is cold and crystal-clear.

“Damn,” he says, snuffing the spliff on a rock before he drops it.

It’s time to be honest with himself. He’s been spending a lot of his free time with Adam. He sleeps in Adam’s bed _with Adam_ , for fuck’s sake. He’s grown used to waking up and finding that Adam’s making him a healthy breakfast of granola festooned with fruit and berries of all colors. He’d rather have a taco but he never says that because Adam goes to the trouble – for him – and Adam’s too sweet to hurt with snarky comments any longer. There was even that one time he slept in Adam’s bed and woke up trapped in Adam’s arms and legs with Adam’s breath hot on his nape and Adam’s dick shoving against his ass. He managed to disentangle himself without waking Adam up because it was really no big deal. He loves Adam and Adam’s gay and all guys get morning wood and it just doesn’t matter.

They go lots of places together, he’s Adam’s plus one and vice versa. Adam comes to all his few-and-far-between gigs, and Tommy’s seen _Wicked_ so often now from backstage that he’s appalled to find he can hum some of the tunes. The other cast members think he’s Adam’s boyfriend and it doesn’t actually bother him. He isn’t looking for a girlfriend anyway.

Adam hugs him at random times, whenever he’s in the mood, and Tommy has become very relaxed about it, just lets him do it. Lets Adam kiss the side of his head or his cheek, lets Adam drag him around by the hand, swat him on the ass now and then, drag him into his lap. It’s fucking comfy, Tommy’s not gonna say no.

Plus he just fucking _kissed_ Adam. That was totally a kiss.

It’s like they’re fucking married… without benefits.

How stupid has he been? Adam’s awesome, he loves Adam, Adam loves him, and maybe that Kinsey dude is onto something. He’s never met anyone like Adam, ever, and what if he never does again? Tommy wonders if it’s a stupid opportunity to pass up over a stupid idea like not wanting to be gay.

Strange irony. He feels the stars glaring down at him, judging him. He’s been a fool. He sneaks a glance at Adam’s profile, haloed in the tender starlight, and right that second Tommy feels his heart stop and then start, only it probably didn’t actually happen and only feels that way. It hurts a little and it feels profound.

If Adam touched him now, kissed him now, he wouldn’t stop it. He would welcome it. He thinks Adam still has a tiny little crush on him. Adam’s forward, Adam goes for what he wants, so Tommy wants Adam to come for him now.

Except he’s spent months now telling Adam he’s not gay.

He takes a deep breath, although it’s more like a gasp for air, and whispers, “I think I’m kind of in love with you.”

Adam looks absorbed in the milieu around him. Did he even register that comment, the one that nearly took an act of God for Tommy to blurt out? Adam’s head turns and he looks at Tommy for a long moment while Tommy squirms inside. Wow, did he fuck everything up just now?

“Did you say something, Tommy?” Adam asks softly.

“Um.” This must be what tongue-tied means.

“Did you just say what I think you said?”

Tommy nods abruptly. Thank fuck words aren’t required.

“But you’re not gay.” Adam sounds confused.

Tommy swallows; there’s a weird click in his throat. He has to try twice to get words out. “Maybe I’m not all that straight either, I dunno.”

“Oh, Tommy,” Adam says in a mournful tone.

And fuck, Tommy knows that tone. He’s been dumped before. He should have kept his damn mouth shut.

“No, honey, that’s not, uh,” Adam starts. And stops.

Wow, is even glib Adam tongue-tied? The only thing that could make this moment more awkward would be if Ravi popped out of nowhere to nail them in the beam of his flashlight.

“Sorry I said anything,” Tommy says thickly.

Adam’s hand squeezes his waist. “I’m not sorry.”

He’s not? Hope springs eternal. Tommy holds his breath.

Adam still sounds sad but maybe not a bad kind of sad. “I’m always going to love you, but I don’t want you to think that I’ve –“

“No,” Tommy interrupts, “I don’t.”

“– that I’ve been dishonest about being friends with you.”

“Haven’t thought that one bit.”

“I love you, baby, you are the most amazing person. You mean so much to me.”

Tommy takes that as the kind of love that friends have for one another. Close friends. But still. He’s _in_ love and Adam’s not. Great. He deserves it, though, for being stupid all these months.

“You don’t feel awkward about it, do you?” Adam keeps going. “I would never want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

“I’m so comfortable, trust me.” Actually Tommy’s just about to vibrate out of his skin. This whole conversation is unbearably unclear. He’s waiting for Adam to _do_ something.

Adam’s not done. “You don’t have to, um, offer anything to keep me as a friend.”

Wow, is that what Adam’s thinking? Tommy is shit at reading minds, he didn’t see that one coming at all. “No, Adam, _no_.”

The hand on his waist starts slipping away furtively. Tommy grabs it and stops it from moving. “Don’t,” he says, miserable. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Adam’s hand stays where it is; his fingers interlace with Tommy’s. “You didn’t do anything wrong, honey.”

“I teased you.”

“I tease you all the time.”

“Except I mean it. And you don’t believe me.”

The air is still and quiet. Tommy hangs his head and waits for an eternity.

Adam sighs at last. “You mean it?”

Tommy nods. “I’m an idiot,” he says quietly.

“Don’t say that. You’re not. It’s just,” Adam pauses. “Being gay, it’s hard because sometimes you fall for your male friends. It’s the same with straight guys and their women friends from what I hear. And sometimes they think that you’re their one chance to try something on for size. It’s easy to get hurt.”

That’s not what’s happening. Tommy is sure of it. He’s been hit on by gay guys since early high school. Never once has he popped a boner over a guy. Until Adam. He needs to find some words that have a meaning. “Kinsey scale?” he offers uncertainly.

Adam laughs softly. “You think so?”

“No other guy ever got me turned on.”

“I turn you on?”

“Fuck yeah.”

He’s glad his head is down because he’s blushing, he can feel the heat in his cheeks.

Adam turns his head and presses his lips against Tommy’s hair. “It’s just all those times you kept saying you’re not gay. I really came to believe you, Tommy.”

“You liked me at first, didn’t you?” Tommy asks.

“I did.”

“So I blew it by waiting too long?”

Adam kisses Tommy’s hair and then bites the top of his ear, which goes straight to Tommy’s cock. “Nuh-uh,” Adam breathes out. “It’s still there. I’ve been sublimating all this time.”

Tommy doesn’t recognize that word. In context, though, he thinks maybe what Adam just said is a good thing. Something in the universe rings his heart like a bell. He raises his head and turns to Adam, hopeful.

“It’s still there, baby,” Adam says, and there’s that big cute smile that lights up a room, even a whole moonlit valley. “I simply never thought that –“

“Kiss me, you fool,” Tommy interrupts, seizing the moment.

Adam cocks his head appraisingly. “You realize I’m never ever going to let you forget that you kissed me first.”

“I can live with that.”

At last, glory be, Adam’s lips are on his, soft and sweet and moist and warm and beautiful. Adam’s one hand strokes Tommy’s side and his other comes up to cup Tommy’s chin.

It’s the best fucking kiss Tommy’s ever had in his life. He reaches up and winds his arms around Adam’s neck. The sleeping bag starts to slip but he barely notices the cold.

“You’re the sexiest little thing,” Adam say, hauling Tommy into his lap.

Tommy goes with the flow even if he’s not used to being manhandled during a make-out session. He figures this means that Adam is on board with sex. Tommy likes sex. He likes Adam. It stands to reason, probably, that sex with Adam would be great. “Does that mean we can have sex now?”

“I’m not going to do it with pine needles in my ass.”

“How’s that different from sand in the ass at Burning Man?”

“Who said I got laid there?”

“You didn’t?”

Adam snickers. “It wasn’t on the sand.”

“So?” Tommy says. “We have a sleeping bag.”

“I’m not going to do it around a bunch of people.”

“Weren’t there like twenty thousand people at Burning Man?”

“Fifty.”

“You did it with fifty people?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“You did it with fifty thousand people?”

“Oh stop,” Adam says fondly. “You’re silly.” He pulls the sleeping bag off the ground and tucks it around Tommy. “Good thing you’re such a great kisser.”

“I am?” asks Tommy. “Wait, of course I am, all the girls say so.”

Adam rubs Tommy’s nose with his own, making Tommy laugh. “No more girls, okay?”

“No more girls,” agrees Tommy. It’s not like he’s giving up much, he hasn’t had a steady girl in ages. Hasn’t even considered it since meeting Adam. He’s been such a fool all these months.

“Sure you’re ready for sex with me?”

“I am so ready, goddamnit let’s do it right now.”

“We’re not having sex out here,” Adam says firmly. “And that’s final.”

Tommy grumbles, “Who put you in charge?”

Adam laughs. It’s one of those annoyingly knowing laughs. Tommy wonders what the fuck he’s getting himself into. Who knew computer geek boy could be so fucking macho? Just to show Adam he’s not the only man around here, he pulls Adam’s head down and kisses him hard. “For later,” he says.

On the way back to camp they take the slow way, stopping every five steps to kiss. The sleeping bag keeps slipping to the ground but they barely notice. At last they manage to sneak back and zip into the bag without waking anyone up. Tommy lets Adam big-spoon him; at least that way his dick isn’t rubbing against Adam. Of course, Adam’s dick is molesting his backside, but that’s Adam’s problem.

Tommy wakes up warm and happy. A ray of morning sunlight has surfed through the tree trunks to land on his face. He rubs the sleepiness from his eyes with his fist. Sutan is snoring in his own sleeping bag only a few feet from Adam, back turned to them. Tommy rolls over.

Ravi is sitting on a log, staring at Tommy and Adam wrapped up together in their sleeping bag.

Judging.

“Oh fuck,” Tommy mutters. “It’s too early for this.” He rolls the other way and slides out of the bag without disturbing Adam too much.

Breakfast is burnt coffee and donuts while they pack up. Adam sleeps in as long as he can but finally gets up and wanders off into the woods to answer nature’s call. Tommy shoves both sleeping bags in the back of the van and helps Mike clean up the grill. They throw plenty of liquid on the leftover coals. Oracio is pulling the bag of food leftovers off a high tree branch several yards away.

Sutan, wearing a facial mud masque, walks past.

“Did you have that shit on all night?” Oracio asks.

“Routine in beauty is key,” Sutan says. “Wrinkles never sleep.”

Oracio bundles up the rope and shakes his head, whistling low. “You coulda woke up with a bear eating your face.”

Sutan looks at Tommy. “Is he shitting me?”

“Nope,” Tommy says. “Next time, no smelly products that a bear might mistake for food. Run everything past me, okay?”

Sutan brushes past with a muttered, “Next time my ass,” although he pinches Tommy’s butt to make clear that he doesn’t hold anything against him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy sees Adam and Ravi talking, then shaking hands. What is up with that? As they pile into the van, Adam whispers right next to Tommy’s ear, barely a breath of sound: “He congratulated me for ‘winning’ you.”

Tommy snorts. Maybe Ravi isn’t so bad. Next practice is going to be mighty awkward, though, no question about that.

The drive back to town is fraught with tension, at least for Adam and Tommy. Tommy’s skintight jeans are _not_ made to contend with this situation. He chews on a fingernail, wondering if Adam’s in the same state. He hopes so; he doesn’t want to have the only inappropriate erection in this van.

Finally, when he’s about ready to burst, the van drops them at his car parked outside Oracio’s apartment. Tommy stows the camping gear and waves goodbye to Oracio and he and Adam get in his car.

“My place,” Adam says breathlessly. “Drive!”

Tommy drives fast. Burbank is closer but Adam has his own place and if there was ever a time for privacy, this is it. At each red light, Tommy turns his head and Adam’s right there, kissing him deep and filthy until some other driver honks and he throws the car back in gear.

He detours into the In-N-Out Burger on North Harvey, which has a blissfully short drive-through line at 10:35 a.m.

“Seriously?” Adam asks. “You’re thinking about food?”

“Gotta keep our strength up,” Tommy says, ordering at the window. “That breakfast at the campsite wasn’t worth writing home about.” It’s a bit early for cheeseburgers but that’s what In-N-Out has. Everything is scarfed down between there and Adam’s apartment.

Adam fumbles the key in the lock because Tommy’s plastered against his back in the building foyer. They stumble inside, laughing. Adam shuts and locks the door and then rounds on Tommy. “You’re in for it now,” he says with an incongruously sweet twinkle in his eye.

“Bring it, big guy,” Tommy challenges, backing down the small hallway to the bedroom. Fighting words, and before he knows it, Tommy’s been wrestled out of every stitch of his clothing and he’s buck-fucking-naked and tossed on the bed like a sack of potatoes.

This is so incredibly different from the usual m.o. Tommy always picks girls who are shorter than he is. He likes petite women who don’t make him feel puny. Adam’s another story entirely, big and tall and dominant. It’s weird. Plus very fucking exciting.

“Need a shower,” he mutters, bouncing off the bed. “I feel like I’ve got fleas.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Adam cries, catching him and tossing him back. “Shower later, sex first! Let me get my shirt off.”

Tommy makes another feint for the hallway and gets out of the room this time. He slides into the bathroom ahead of Adam and sneaks past the shower curtain and cranks the water on, shivering under the first spray. Seconds later, a naked Adam is muscling him aside. It’s an apartment shower so there’s a porcelain tub and a curtain and a showerhead sticking out of the tiled wall. It’s not especially roomy.

“Fuck it’s cold!” Adam hollers, laughing.

Tommy instantly plasters himself against Adam, arms around his waist. And wow. He has never. Ever. EVER. Snuggled up against a naked man’s body. A body with something inconvenient poking right into his belly, not that he should be surprised: he’s been half-hard the whole drive from the forest, so why wouldn’t Adam be?

The water heats to scalding.

“That’s lots better,” Tommy says, relaxing. Adam is plastered against and around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Adam breathes, water from his hair dripping all over Tommy’s shoulders. He grabs the body wash and a fucking _loofah_ and lathers up.

Horrified, Tommy backs off. “You can’t wash me, dude.”

Adam looks surprised. “Why not? You said you’re dirty.”

“It’s girly.”

“You’re the one who had to have a shower first. Who’s girly now?”

“This is strange for me, all right? I’m not used to being naked in a shower with another man.”

Adam scrubs at Tommy’s back with the loofah. “Deal. You’ll get used to it.”

“You hope I will,” Tommy snarks. The loofah is ticklish in certain places and Adam’s not at all shy about getting personal.

“You seemed pretty into it last night.”

“I was drunk and high.”

The loofah stills briefly. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”

“Fuck no. Don’t stop, that’s starting to feel good. Hey, where’s your toothpaste, we taste like onions.”

“God damn it, Tommy, you are so fucking high maintenance. I would never have guessed.”

Ten minutes later, Tommy gets tossed on the bed again, this time radiating damp warmth. Adam lands on top of him a moment later.

“Adam, I get that you’re a top,” Tommy says, “but my bottom isn’t open for business today. Just wanted to put that out there.”

“Damn, and I stocked up on candles and condoms.”

“Shut up, you did not.”

Adam nuzzles Tommy’s shoulder. “There’s no hurry for anything.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. My dick’s gonna fall off if I don’t get some action on it soon.”

“So much for romance,” Adam sighs, blowing a raspberry against Tommy’s belly.

Tommy giggles and squirms and tries to slither away but Adam catches him and holds him firmly in place, looming over him and looking into his eyes.

“It’s just, I don’t know how it is with guys,” Tommy says, quieter.

Adam leans down and presses his lips against Tommy’s. “Close your eyes,” he says softly.

It’s not easy to do that, but Tommy summons the will to comply. He feels extra naked now, vulnerable in a way he’s not used to, not at all. Adam’s lips press against his eyelids, one after the other. Adam’s hands stroke his throat, his shoulders, his chest and sides. Tommy’s hands fumble for Adam, get buried in his thick hair. He almost squeaks when teeth bite carefully at one nipple.

Adam slinks down his body, closer to his dick, and Tommy’s pretty sure that Adam’s going to be great at blow jobs, until Adam passes his dick up entirely and next thing he knows, Adam’s kissing and licking the sensitive insides of his thighs.

Adam whispers, “You’re gorgeous everywhere, baby.”

Tommy’s never thought of himself as gorgeous. Particularly not his skinny legs. Adam sounds sincere, nevertheless. Tommy can’t get over how different this feels. Adam is big and hot – in every possible way. His body isn’t ripped or anything, he’s a bit soft in a teddy bear way, in spite of his leanness. Mostly, he’s so much bigger than Tommy. His hands are very sure, not hesitant at all in possessing Tommy’s body. Even his tongue is impressive, leaving damp trails on Tommy’s skin that turn cold and make him shiver.

“Adam?” Tommy whispers, opening his eyes and looking down at Adam’s head between his legs.

Adam’s head tilts up. “Yeah, baby?”

“Can I get a kiss?”

Adam moves up his body, kissing his belly, his chest, his chin – just about everything except his dick – along the way. He pulls Tommy into his arms and wraps Tommy’s legs in his own. “Baby,” he says again, before bringing their lips together and licking into Tommy’s mouth, sweet and wild and deep.

Adam’s erection is hard against his own. He reaches down and curls his fingers around Adam, shuddering at the amazing feeling. Tommy sucks at multi-tasking; he can’t concentrate on the kissing and also jack someone else’s dick. Adam apparently can because he keeps kissing Tommy even as his hand runs down Tommy’s side and takes both of their dicks into his hand. He guides Tommy’s hand and jacks them off together.

“Fuck,” Tommy breathes, his mouth going slack, back arching. He can’t help it. Adam’s overwhelming. “Just… fuck,” he adds, coming hard and making a big mess of them both. Or maybe that’s both of them making a mess.

Then Adam’s kissing him again as though he never stopped, whispering crazy stuff to him all the time, stuff he can’t even process until one thing gets through.

“I’m kind of in love with you, too, Tommy,” Adam says. “No, wait,” he corrects, “I’m very in love with you.”

Tommy wraps his arms around Adam’s neck and squeezes as hard as he can. “Me, too.”

Adam laughs and rubs his cheek against Tommy’s, for all the world like a big cat. “Thank god for your shitty computer.”

 

\+ + +

 

Tommy walks into the call center on Monday morning with a gigantic grin on his face. He feels like a dork but he can’t stop smiling. He just got a text from Isaac: _Remember cowellfrom 69entertainmnt? he wants our demo!!!!!!!_

Better yet, Adam kissed him goodbye this morning. If he’s going to be gay for the guy, he plans to embrace it fully.

Kelsey stares at him. “Good weekend?”

Tommy gives her a thumbs-up.

Kelsey nods sagely. "Was the sex good, then?"

"Shut up."

“I kind of thought that would happen,” she says smugly.

Tommy plops into his chair and spins around. “Bitch,” he says fondly. “You know me way too well.”

“Better than you know yourself,” she agrees.

“I have this feeling we’re both going to be out of this dump pretty soon," he continues. “How’s your novel coming?”

“Nearly done.”

Tommy holds out his fist and she bumps it.

“M&M?” he asks.

“Why not,” Kelsey says.

 

THE END


	5. Epilogue

The next several weeks involve Tommy learning all sorts of lessons about being a gay boytoy for Adam. It’s even more fun than he might have imagined. Adam can get so wild, bossy and possessive. It does something for Tommy’s ego to know he’s _it_ for Adam. He gets blowjobs morning and evening, handjobs during every smuggled shower, candle-lit baths, frottage (it’s French so it’s got to be good), plus his ass eaten out which is so amazing, he never would have predicted. It’s not all one-sided, no sir: now Tommy knows what a really _big_ dick is like in his mouth and if it weren’t Adam’s dick, he’d be grossed out but it is Adam’s dick, thank fuck, so it’s hotter than Hades.

And that’s not the sum of the awesomeness of being Adam’s boyfriend. There are Date Nights. Where sometimes he must go to a rom-com movie to make Adam happy, but that’s fine because what makes Adam happiest is to sit in an isolated area of the theater and make out in the dark. Other Date Nights involve strange new restaurants and nightclubs that Tommy never knew existed before even though he grew up in this town. Sometimes he insists on choosing the Date Night activity and that leads to things like bowling or the creperie at the Farmers Market on Fairfax or bringing takeout Chinese home and watching Dick Van Dyke reruns.

All followed by plenty of sex, of course.

Adam never asks for anything; he waits for Tommy although once he’s sure Tommy will go along, then he’s all _like this no like that bend your leg french my ear lick my nipples let me this let me that don’t move come all over me baby._

The rough part is that Tommy can’t share any of this with his guy friends. It’s just not the same as the raunchy conquest of a hot lady in a sleazy bar. Mike and Stan are suspicious that _something_ untoward is going on, given the way they side-eye Tommy these days, but in spite of how clearly desperate they are to ask where he’s been when he shows up on a Sunday morning with days-old clothes and lip-gloss smears on his neck, there is no way he’s ready to share this with them.

He’s reduced to going to Kelsey to discuss the girly details of his quote-unquote relationship. He learns that girl talk is lots of fun; over burgers and fries and shakes at Coco’s he finds himself sharing all kinds of embarrassing and increasingly hotter details with her. They snicker together in whispers until suddenly they have to run out to the parking lot for a post-coital ciggie.

Finally he realizes that Adam is such a sweetheart that he won’t do anything that would be bad. Causing pain is so far down his list of what he wants to do to Tommy that it’s not even on the fucking list, so Tommy’s just about ready to try buttsex. Millions of gay men all over the world can’t be wrong, right?

One evening shortly after coming to this realization, Tommy saunters into the living room, where Adam is slaving away at his mammoth computer system, probably inventing the next Facebook or Twitter. He’s unbelievably cute in his bare feet and dark jeans and sparkly Queen tee-shirt.

Tommy says, “So. Sex.”

Adam’s fingers stop typing. He turns to look at Tommy and gives him a suspicious look.

Tommy raises an eyebrow challengingly. “What if I said my bottom is open for business now? Would that interest you?”

Adam’s eyes narrow. His fingers are still poised above the keyboard. “Is that a trick question?”

Tommy shakes his head. “So, you in?”

“Wow, what an image.” Adam nearly gags with choked laughter. “Bottom can have a lot of meanings.”

“Right, I’m talking about the bottom of my sock drawer.” Tommy reaches out with one finger and pushes on Adam’s shoulder until the chair swivels around just enough so that he can clamber into Adam’s lap, his knees bracketing Adam’s thighs. He drapes his forearms over Adam’s shoulders and looks, smolderingly (he hopes), into Adam’s eyes.

“You’re serious,” Adam says, disbelieving.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

“Then take a chance and find out, big guy.”

Adam leans in and traces the outline of Tommy’s lips with his tongue; presses against the seam of Tommy’s lips, and Tommy lets him in. They kiss languidly for a few minutes. There’s not much Tommy loves more than kissing, unless it’s being kissed so thoroughly by Adam. He does have a fucking _issue_ in his pants, though, relating to the tightness and general lack of space for expansion.

He draws back enough to favor Adam with another sultry look. “Take me to bed?”

Adam doesn’t hesitate. He plants his hands under Tommy’s ass and stands up so fast that the chair rolls away and bangs into a bookcase; so fast that Tommy gets a little light-headed and clutches wildly at Adam’s neck to keep from falling. He’s not used to being picked up like that, okay? Oblivious, Adam marches them down the little hallway and into the bedroom. Par for the course: he tosses Tommy on the bed.

“God damn it,” says Tommy. “Fucking caveman.”

“This is your fantasy, admit it,” Adam says, grabbing the waist of Tommy’s jeans and pulling them down hard, still zipped up. Only the decided lack of ass makes it work, until Adam gets to the boots.

Tommy props himself on his elbows and looks down his body to Adam, who is at the foot of the bed, hands still on Tommy’s jeans, ready to erupt in laughter. Amazingly, his briefs are still clinging to his narrow hips. “This is another fine mess you’ve got us into,” Tommy says drily.

The laughter bubbles out of Adam. “Don’t say that! You sound like my dad watching those old TV shows!”

“Oops, there went my boner.”

Adam works on getting one of Tommy’s boots off. “Do you have to use words like that? So romantic.”

“What do you want me to call it? My hard drive?”

The boot thuds to the floor. Adam looks down his nose at Tommy. “Why not just erection?” He has Tommy’s other foot in his hand now, pulling at the second boot.

“So New Age,” Tommy scoffs.

That boot hits the floor and then the jeans are whisked off. Next go the socks. Adam crawls onto the bed and up to where Tommy is, perching nearby and leaning over to peck him on the mouth. “Hi, my name is Adam and I’m from the computer place? I need to inspect your hard drive.”

Tommy snorts and shoves at his shoulder.

“I’d also like to upgrade your RAM,” Adam adds.

They exchange deeply meaningful glances and then dissolve into giggles. Tommy leans his head against Adam’s shoulder and then he’s taken up into Adam’s arms and surrounded by Adam’s smell, and Adam is kissing him deeply, hands going under his tee-shirt and roaming over his sides and back.

“Adam,” Tommy breathes, twisting to get closer, twining his arms around Adam’s neck. “You can do anything, anything.”

One of Adam’s arms reaches blindly for the small bookshelf by the bedside. After much clattering he dumps a tube of Wet and a condom packet on the pillow. He nuzzles Tommy’s neck right under his ear. “I’m going to make it so good for you, baby.”

“I know,” Tommy whispers, pulling at Adam’s shirt. “Just do it slow, okay?” He gets the shirt over Adam’s head and off and then reaches immediately for all that skin with its lovely freckles. Not that the freckles can be seen in the relative dark, but he knows they’re there. Adam is lean and his skin is kind of soft, covered in ticklish hair. Tommy needs it against his own skin right the fuck now. He peels off his tee and drops it over the side of the bed, then skins off his underwear. He reaches for Adam’s belt and zipper and finds him going commando. Who knew computer geeks could be so fucking sexy? Sexy geek or not, though, there’s a battalion of butterflies flapping around anxiously in Tommy’s stomach. He’s not going to say it out loud but _fuck_ he is really kind of nervous.

When they’re naked, Adam pushes Tommy down gently and crawls over his body. Some Wet gets squelched onto his fingers. He lies down alongside Tommy, putting one arm around him. “Okay, baby, it would help if your legs were open.”

“Don’t make fun of me. This is my ass we’re talking about.”

Adam hovers, leans down, presses their mouths together briefly. “I’m not making fun of you. Now just lie back and think of Burbank.”

Tommy doesn’t get the reference; Adam tends to use obscure references and it’s not the right time to ask for an explanation. He’s pretty sure Adam is still making fun of him, though. But he doesn’t mind. He can dish it out pretty well himself.

It’s the world’s weirdest feeling when Adam’s finger, cool with slick, is brushing his hole. He cants his leg further. It’s even weirder when the finger goes inside. So far he’s not getting the appeal. Adam kisses him, though, and that’s nice, and after a while he realizes that there’s probably more than one finger in there, just gently pushing in and out, a little deeper, and that’s starting to feel nice, too. The fingers slip out and suddenly it feels oddly empty.

“It’ll be lots easier if you’re on your tummy,” Adam whispers in his ear.

“But… wait,” Tommy says, trying to process.

“Lots easier.” Adam pushes at him gently, and when Tommy doesn’t go, Adam turns him over, shoving a pillow beneath his hips.

Great, now his dick has nothing but a super-soft down pillow for friction. “Adam,“ he whines.

“Shh.”

He hears the condom packet ripping, then the unmistakable sound of a condom unrolling. He knows exactly how big that dick is. Something in his stomach clenches. He tries to turn over again. Another plaintive _Adam_ is all he gets out before he feels Adam between his legs back there, a hand pulling his hip up a little, and something against his hole. “Relax,” Adam says, “just relax.”

Yeah right, _you_ relax, Tommy thinks just as it goes in a whole lot more smoothly than he would have imagined. “Ow,” he says experimentally.

Adam goes rigid. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really? Just odd.” Tommy wiggles his ass a little. “Wow.” There’s a dick inside him and it’s not really comfortable, but it’s not _bad_ , and he still has a nice boner. Mostly it feels amazingly intimate. Even though Tommy scoffs at that New Age-y word, he loves being naked with Adam. Some day, he thinks, some day… no more condoms. He wiggles again because the uncomfortable feeling is fading, being replaced by a pleasant sensation of fullness.

Adam kisses the center of his spine. “Stop squirming around, gorgeous. Let me do the work.” He wraps around Tommy, one hand holding Tommy’s hand on the sheets, another holding his hip firmly. He slides in deeper and then out nearly the entire way.

Tommy gasps. “No, I’m okay,” he says quickly. “It’s just – fuck.” It’s not that different from cuddling and being the little spoon, the way Adam is surrounding him, covering him, protecting him. He admits to himself, deep inside where no one can see or know or make fun of him, that he _likes_ being taken care of. He likes Adam’s bossiness and his concern for Tommy’s pleasure. If that makes Tommy a girl, so be it, what the fuck ever. He can live with that a lot better than he can live without Adam.

“Fuck good or fuck bad?” Adam asks.

“Fuck _fuck_ ,” Tommy supplies unhelpfully.

“Does that mean…?”

“Yeah, go ahead and fuck me.” Tommy’s even sure he means it. His free hand clenches and unclenches at the sheets next to the pillow that his face is resting against. The hand on his hip pulls him up higher, partly on his knees. The pillow is dragged from under him. Hey, that pillow wasn’t _much_ but goddamn now his dick has _nothing_. He doesn’t have the breath to protest, though, because Adam is thrusting against him, pushing in deeper each time. Tommy wasn’t expecting to get harder just from that. It’s weird to be on this end of the fucking but he understands how it feels to be the one doing it. The thought of how Adam must love fucking him hits him hard, like a gut-punch. After that it’s all good; it feels incredible.

Adam is moaning and that’s sexy as fuck, too.

“Honey,” Adam whispers, “Tommy, Tommy.”

Adam’s hand leaves Tommy’s hip and fists his dick. The sensation is too much; Tommy comes almost immediately and everything goes dark.

 

Tommy props an eye open. He’s still on his front, his cheek smashed against a pillow, his ass in the air and, as far as he can tell, Adam’s dick still inside. Adam is whispering urgently against his ear, “Tommy, are you okay?”

“Um, yeah?” Tommy says softly. “I think I went away for a moment. It felt so good.”

Adam laughs quietly. “Thank god.”

“Did you – _you_ know?”

“Yes, I did.” Adam slaps Tommy’s ass lightly and pulls out with a porny squelching sound. Next there’s the sound of a rubber being tied off.

“This position isn’t so awesome,” Tommy complains. He’s way too worn out to move, though.

Adam manhandles Tommy around until they are lying on the bed together, Tommy snuggled under Adam’s chin, trapped by his arms and legs. Adam flicks the comforter over them. “Hey, cutie,” he says, rubbing his chin against the top of Tommy’s head. “You know how much I love you?”

Tommy snorfles and shifts, getting more comfortable. “Uh huh. You realize I was actually talking about the bottom of my sock drawer, right?”

Adam laughs and kisses Tommy’s hair. “Whatever you say, baby.”

Tommy smiles to himself. If Adam ever checks the bottom of that drawer, he’s going to find a bag of M&Ms and a string of condoms. Plus which? Tommy likes being called baby. Just saying.

 

THE END


End file.
